Thirsting

Last week's temperatures were at a record-breaking high, over 100F, with humidity around 50%. The oddity about the humid states is that the humidity goes up as the sun goes down, so that around 9pm, you contend with temperatures of 90F and humidity around 95%, so evenings actually feel warmer than days, at least stickier. I'm still wondering what the fuss is, this is nothing like Hong Kong, let alone Saigon. But anyway...
Last Thursday the heat wave broke with some spectacular thunderstorms through the night, the kind with huge zigzag lightning flashes carving through the sky, and angry dollops of water crashing down. Even Emmett has gotten used to the rucus, and it was lovely to behold. Since then, temps have been very pleasant.
Then, another surprise, Mike's old buddy Clay hopped on Amtrak from Minneapolis for a 36-hour ride to visit us for a couple of days (before riding the rails another 36 hours). Ah the hunger for old friends is quickly forgotten when finally satisfied, it had been 2 months since Pica's and Numenius' visit, a month since we were out West to indulge in a "bain de famille".
Sunday's sermon was on a popular subject, why bad things happen to good people, and on a tangent, it dealt with the weight of unrequited desire for justice and peace, and with discouragement of not seeing progress. I'm starting to see the grace in thirsting, that giving in to discouragement and losing hope are terrible blemishes to bear.
Those thunderstorms were all the sweeter for the heavy heat that came before. The silence of alone-ness was necessary for savoring familiar company. Small sorrows all in all.
Though it's easy to tune out, perhaps we must bear consious witness to the crimes in Iraq, Darfur and Niger. Alone-ness and heat rising, the cost in human lives staggering to contemplate, they offer us the challenge of keeping hope for the day justive will be achieved, of believing that peace is within the reach of our own efforts.